


Promises

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Mention of sex, Mild Fluff, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: You and the Winchesters are hunting a Wendigo. As your relationship with Dean develops, promises are made. However, the dangers of the job make certain promises hard to keep.





	Promises

“You know, if only the Wendigo had a bag of M&Ms while he was still human, then he wouldn’t have had to resort to cannibalism. And, we could have avoided this whole mess,” you poke fun at Dean. He is crunching on his candy a little too loudly and it’s getting on your nerves.

“Exactly! I’m just taking precautions, sweetheart. In case we get stranded out here, I got us covered,” Dean says while throwing a piece of chocolate at you.

“Dean, do you want to put your snacks away and help us track this thing?” Sam asks his brother. Sometimes you wonder how Dean is actually the older one.

Dean puts his bag of sweets away but leans in to whisper in your ear. “He’s just mad I won’t share with him.”

You nudge his shoulder and giggle. “What is it with Wendigo hunts that make you hungry for M&Ms?”

“Don’t know. It’s probably similar to the fact that when I see you in those hiking shorts, I get hungry for a little-”

You slap your hand over his mouth. “You even think about finishing that sentence and I can assure you, you will starve to death.” You narrow your eyes at him but he can see how weak your resolve actually is.

“What can I say, kid? I got a sweet tooth,” Dean says when you remove your hand. The wink he sends your way almost makes you knees give out from under you.

You look over Dean’s shoulder to risk a glance at Sam. You don’t want Sam to overhear his brother. Sam knows you have an all-consuming infatuation with the eldest Winchester. And, if he found out you have been casually sleeping around with Dean, he’ll scold you for letting your standards of affection slip. He’ll say that you deserve someone who wants more than just sex from you. But, what he will never understand is that you’ll take anything Dean Winchester is willing to give. Plus, he’ll get mad at Dean for using your crush as a form of easy access. Sam knows Dean has no idea that you want more from him, more than a couple hours in some dingy motel sheets. But, that won't stop Sam from scolding his brother. 

“Are you two done?” Sam asks as he pulls out his map. “We should be getting close. There are a series of caves and an abandoned mine coming up over that ridge,” Sam points off into the distance without looking up from his map. Dean has taken advantage of his brother’s distraction and started playing with your hair. It feels amazing but you slap him away before Sam looks back up. “The Wendigo should be hiding out in one of those. I say, we hunker down for the night and start in on those caves in the morning. We’re not going to be able to out-hunt this thing in the dark.”

“Alright then!” Dean claps his hands together. “Sammy, you start in on setting up the sleeping bags and I’ll get going on drawing up the Anasazi symbols.”

“What about me?” you ask Dean.

“You just sit pretty, princess. Let the men do their work,” Dean says with a barely stifled laugh. He knows how much you hate it when he talks to you like that. That’s why he does it. Your cheeks get flushed and the cute little pout on your lips makes Dean smile. He likes getting under your skin, getting you riled up.

You push past Dean and try to ignore him as you help draw the sigils into the dirt. You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you but you refuse to give in. “I’ll show you who the real princess is, pretty boy,” you mumble to yourself as you stick your hands into the soil.

“What was that?” Dean asks, knowing full well what you said.

You stick your tongue out at him as your only response.

You continue working in silence, well except for the light chuckling coming from Dean. That soft sound always makes it so you can’t stay mad at him for long. It’s like a tranquilizer that seeps into your bones and lulls you into a willing pile of dough for him to play with.

“Dude!” Sam breaks the silence. “You only packed two sleeping bags?” The annoyance in Sam’s voice is unmistakable.

“What? I was saving space in our backpacks. Those things were heavy enough.” Dean shrugs as he finishes the last of his symbols.

“Dean, it gets cold at night. Like, really freaking cold. What were you planning on doing?” Sam asks his brother.

Dean turns and gives you a wicked smile. “Oh, I have a few ideas.”

“Not going to happen,” you state.

“Looks like you don’t have a choice, sweetheart.”

“You and Sam can share a sleep bag, you are brothers after all!”

“No one can share with that sasquatch. You’re stuck with me, kid.” You want to smack the smug smile he’s giving you off his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you nice and warm,” Dean says as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

You look over to Sam who has put his nose back into the map after the sleeping arrangements were finalized. “I really hate you right now. I hope you know nothing is going to happen with Sam sleeping three feet away and a monster circling our camp.”

“It was worth a shot. But I promise, I can keep my hands to myself,” Dean says as he pulls away from you. “Don’t get used to it, though. When we get back to civilization, I intend to take what I want, what I deserve!” Dean says with overdramatized confidence.

“What you _deserve_?” you scoff at him. “The only thing you deserve is a swift kick in the ass!”

“Sweetheart, if you want to try spanking… all you have to do is ask,” Dean coos in your ear.

Your cheeks flush and you smack his shoulder. You are incapable of a verbal response, which only makes Dean want to tease you further. But, he takes mercy on you and doesn’t push it any further.

You crawl in beside Dean and he tries to do up the sleeping bag around you two. It’s a tight fit, but oddly comfortable.

You rest your head on his chest as he slips an arm around your shoulders. “See, this isn’t so bad,” Dean says with a contented hum. You nod against him. You won’t give him the satisfaction of verbally agreeing with him.

You wake up a few hours later to Dean trying, and failing, to discreetly slip out of your shared sleeping bag.

“Shh, go back to sleep, kid. I’ve just got to hit the head then check on the sigils. I’ll be back in a little while.”

In your sleepy haze, you mumble out an incoherent reply. The sleep instantly drains out of you when a few minutes later, you hear Dean scream your name. It sounds like he’s in pain and you’re immediately on your feet. You grab your flare gun and search frantically for the direction he went in. You berate yourself for not paying more attention when he left. But, then he calls to you again and you realize it’s coming from the west. You sprint toward the perimeter of your camp. But before you can cross the warded boundary, two strong arms pull you back.

You kick against your captor thinking it is Sam who had woken up and seen your escape. The arms tighten around you and soft lips graze against your ear. You know that all too familiar touch can only belong to one person.

You turn in his hold and wrap your arms around Dean’s neck. You cling to him with all you have. You’re probably hurting him but you can’t seem to loosen your grip. He pulls away and pushes your hair out of your face. He can see unshed tears in your eyes and his stomach drops.

“What the hell were you doing? You almost crossed over into Wendigo territory!” Dean says in a panic.

“I – I heard you scream for me! You sounded so… so…” you clutch onto his shirt to gain grounding. He’s here. He’s okay.

Dean pulls you in for another embrace. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine.” Dean looks back to where Sam is still sleeping. “Seeing as how Sammy didn’t hear anything to wake him up, it was probably the Wendigo trying to lure you out,” Dean says as his grip on you tightens.

“But you were so loud and so-” your voice breaks.

“Hey,” Dean pulls away to look you in the eye. “It wasn’t me,” he reassures you. “Let’s go back and lie down.”

When you two are secured in your sleeping bag, Dean can feel your heart still pounding in your chest. You assure him you are fine but the fanatic efforts of your heart tell him otherwise. When he holds you a little tighter, he notices your heart rate start to relax.

“Please don’t die,” you whimper into his chest.

The fear in your voice tears Dean in two. “I’ll try my best, sweetheart.”

“No, I’m serious,” you say as you lift your head and look him in the eye. “You can’t die. I can’t lose you. Promise me.”

“I can’t pro-”

“Promise me!”

“I promise,” Dean relents as he strokes your hair. He wants to give you anything and everything you want. Even if it comes in the form of a comforting lie.

Neither of you sleep for the rest of the night. You lie together in silence and take comfort in the rise and fall of the other’s chest. By the time Sam starts to stir around dawn, you had already been tracing circles on Dean’s shoulder for hours. He let you think he was sleeping through it, he didn’t want you to stop.

You pack up your makeshift camp and wipe away the symbols written in the dirt. As you trek onward, you notice the eerie silence that envelops the trees. No birds, no buzzing, there is not even wind to rustle the leaves. You pull out your flare gun and hold it at the ready. You must be getting close.

Dean does a quick whistle to get yours and Sam’s attention. He is crouching by a fallen tree. There is a faint trail of blood leading into the concealed entrance to one of the caves.

No one speaks. The thing probably knows you’re here. But, there is no need to draw more attention to yourselves with unnecessary noise. You and the Winchesters have a predictable plan of attack that you have perfected over the years. Everyone knows the part they must play.

Your job is to stick with Dean and look for the big bad while Sam searches for the survivors. Sam is good with victims, and strong enough to carry them out if they are injured. You and Dean on the other hand, are less inclined to sugar coat the situation for the scared civilians.

You fall in behind Dean, as he never lets you take the lead. You don’t have to spend long looking for the Wendigo before _it_ finds you. As a hunter, it’s sometimes easy to forget that to the monsters, you are the prey.

You hear the thing before you see it. It starts small. You hear the gravel shift under the creature’s weight. Low growls echo through the cave walls before it escalates into an inhuman screech. The Wendigo then comes out of the shadows and makes its attack.

You were the first to recognize from which direction the monster was coming. On instinct, you push on Dean’s shoulder so he tumbles out of harm’s way.  Now, it is only you in the creature’s direct path.

Your flare gun jams as the thing lunges forward and tackles you to the ground. You attempt to kick the creature’s boney chest to keep it away from you, but its lanky arms reach out for you. Its talons puncture your upper thigh and drag downward to rip open five long gashes along your leg. Its claws are still digging into you at the knee when you hear Dean scream your name.

Dean raises his gun but cannot get a clear shot because you are too tangled up with the Wendigo. With your last bout of strength, you use your uninjured leg to kick the thing off of you. You scream in pain as its claws finally leave you and the thing stumbles backwards by the force of your kick.

Within seconds, Dean has shot the Wendigo in the stomach. A fire erupts from the entry wound that eventually swallows the creature whole. The light from the flare illuminates just how ugly these creatures are. You don’t relax until its body is nothing more than a charred heap on the cave floor.

Dean rushes to your side and with panicked breath, assess your injuries.

“Now that’s what I call teamwork!” you exclaim to try and ease the worry from his eyes. It doesn’t work. Dean only takes off his first layer of flannel and tears it in two. He wraps the shredded shirt around your upper thigh to stop the blood flow. “It’s fine, Dean. I am fine,” you say with an unmistakable firmness. You need him to believe you.

“Why the hell did you push me out of the way? That thing could have done a lot worse to you!” Although he sounds angry, you know that he is actually just scared and feeling guilty. And, when Dean Winchester is feeling guilty or scared, he expresses that as anger. So, you don’t take it personally.

“Relax,” you say as you reach out your hand and gesture for him to help you up.  “Just another flesh wound. No biggy. It will leave a gnarly scar but it ain’t my first,” you shrug to amplify the fact that you are fine. “Besides, scars are kind of sexy. Don’t ya think?” you offer Dean a playful wink.

“Not on you, they’re not,” Dean says as he helps you stand up straight. He is focused on trying to help you stand without putting too much pressure on your bad leg. But, if he looked you in the eyes, the only hurt he would see was from his words, not your blooded thigh. Your failed attempt at making a joke backfired into you feeling insecure. You are covered in hunting scars. And now, you find out that Dean doesn’t find them sexy, which means he can’t possibly think you are either.

“Let’s just find Sam and get out of here,” You say with shortness. You pull yourself away from Dean and attempt to hobble down the corridor.

When Dean finally realizes what he said, he rushes over to your side and holds you still. “Shit, Y/N/N I didn’t mean it _that_ way! What I meant was that I hate your scars because they mean that you were once in pain. And, I especially hate the ones that I could have prevented. I hate the ones that you got trying to protect me. That’s not your job. It’s my job to protect you.” He moves in to cup your cheek and you rest some of your weight onto him as you lean against his chest. He puts a firm hand onto your lower back to help keep you upright.

“Well then, I’m firing you! You have enough crap to worry about and I can take care of myself,” you whisper into his touch.

Dean smiles at you then looks down at your leg. “Yeah, I can see that,” he teases you. You roll our eyes at him. You let his comment slide because you know that _he_ knows exactly what you’re capable of.

He takes on most of your weight as you begin to make your way back to where you left Sam. You walk in a comfortable quiet for a little while before Dean breaks the silence.

“Just so you know, kid… you can’t fire me. As your boyfriend, I got tenure. So, you’re stuck with my protection, whether you like it or not.”

If he wasn’t holding you up, you would have fallen over when he said the elusive ‘B’ word. You thought you were just an easy stress relief for him, you didn’t think he actually wanted you in _that_ way too. His words were spoken so casually but you can tell by the way he is looking at you that he is trying to gauge your reaction.

You swallow the lump in your throat and it lands heavily on the butterflies in your stomach. “Well, it’s a two-way street, buddy. Girlfriends have tenure too. So, you can’t expect me to stop trying to save your damsel ass either,” you retort with more coolness than you expected.

Dean’s breath of relief turns into a small laugh. “You’re such a dork,” he says as he rolls his eyes. But the wide smile on his face gives him away. You love the fact that you’re the one who can make his eyes crinkle like that.

As Dean and you walk through the damp cave, he thinks of the promise he made to you last night. He looks down at your leg and chastises himself for not making you promise the same thing to him. His grip on you tightens. He doesn’t need you to promise him anything. He won’t let anything happen to you, ever.

When you finally find Sam, he is tending to the three victims who were still alive. It is a small family who came out for an end of summer camping trip but got more than they bargained for.

The mother and father both are weakened from lack of food and water. They also have large gashes on their lower bodies. Their daughter, who couldn’t be more than six years old, appears unharmed physically. But, she is unable to move otherwise. You think of the things the poor girl must have seen and are not surprised she’s frozen in fear. Sometimes, even you have a hard time processing everything, you can’t imagine what it’s like for a kid.

Sam hoists the burly father to his feet. You can see the strain on Sam’s face as he supports most of the man’s weight. Dean takes charge over the mother who may be lighter but requires more assistance. Her broken ankle makes it so she is relying on Dean to be her second leg.

That leaves you with the kid. You approach her with caution. But to your surprise, she wraps her arms around your neck and clings to you for dear life. For being so small, she’s got a wicked grip. Despite her light weight, Dean still insists on carrying your backpack for you. You swallow your grunt of pain as you lift the kid into your arms and carry her out of the cave behind the others. Each step is like walking on hot iron spikes but you refuse to scare the girl in your arms any more than she already is.

You’re able to keep a steady pace for the first mile or so. But these woods never end. You are falling further and further behind. The girl is starting to worry about being separated from her parents. But, you can’t keep up. Your leg gives out from underneath you and you crash to the ground. The girl slips from your arms and runs over to Dean and her mom.

When Dean sees the girl but not you, he looks back to see you sitting on the ground. You are tightening the blood-soaked tourniquet around your leg. He sets the woman in his charge down against a tree and runs back over to you. Sam is following close behind his brother and they both stop to kneel around you.

You roll your eyes and tell them you’re fine. Neither brother believes you as they can see your hands shake and your leg muscles twitch in pain.

“Come on,” Dean says as he tries pulling you into his stubborn arms.

You push him away and stand your ground, or _sit your_ ground. “I’m not going anywhere, not right now anyway. I’m going to slow everyone down. You need to get that family to the hospital, and probably get that kid to therapist – ASAP,” you try to joke. The brothers don’t laugh or budge. You roll your eyes at them again. “I’m fine! Look, you checked me over and you know this wound isn’t going to kill me. It hurts like a mother fucker and every step feels like I’m being torn open again but it’s not going to kill me. I’ll survive waiting here while you two get that family out of this hell hole and find them some help.”

“No way!” Sam answers first.

Dean lets out a humourless laugh. “Not going to happen! We can carry you all out. Sam will take the kid and the dad. I’ll take you and the mom. Done.”

You shake your head. “You two are already weighed down enough. It’ll take twice as long to get out of here, if we do it your way.”

“I’m not leaving you here!” Dean refuses to give in.

“Why? You know me, I like the woods! Since that big ugly freak is taken care of, I may actually be able to enjoy my surroundings without the imminent threat of death. It’ll be a nice change,” you reassure the boys. The brothers look at each other and have a silent debate. You can sense they are going to relent so you push them along. “Get out of here already! The sooner you bozos leave, the sooner you can come back for me.”

Dean lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his hand through his hair. He looks back at the broken family then back at you. “Alright,” he gives in. “But, I’m coming right back for you! We’re going to get them to their car. Sam will drive them to the hospital while I come back for you. I’ll carry you out of here like the damsel you are,” Dean tries teasing you but the worry on his face undercuts his words.

“You’re the damsel,” you retort with petulance.

“Damn right I am, sweetheart,” he says as he kisses your forehead. You look up at Sam who is staring at you two with none of the shock you expected to see. There is only mild disgust on his face. You realize you may not have been as discrete as you thought. The look in his eyes tell you that he has probably known all along.

“You want a kiss goodbye too, Sammy?” you tease.

Sam groans in frustration. “Be careful!” he insists as he hugs you goodbye before running back to the other family.

“You do not move from this spot! I need to know where to find you, so don’t go wandering off,” Dean instructs you.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to!” you defend yourself while pointing to your leg. Dean unsheathes the knife on his hip and hands it to you. “What’s this for? In case the fluffy woodland creatures attack?” you jest.

“Will you just humour me, please?” he asks with tired desperation.

“Fine,” you give in and take the knife.

He is about to get up and walk away when he kneels back down. “I told myself I wasn’t going to make you do this, but I need to hear you say it. It’s the only way I’ll be able to walk out of these woods and leave you here. It’s your turn to promise me that you won’t get yourself killed,” he whispers in a shy tone.

“I promise,” you say as he kisses you again.

You watch him leave. He keeps looking back at you until he is too far gone and you fall over the horizon.

You sit there for almost two hours. You switch between twiddling your thumbs, humming to yourself, and poking at your wound. The latter is not wise but you are beyond bored. Mercifully, you soon here Dean calling your name.

“Thank god!” you mumble to yourself before answering his call. Your voice echoes through the trees but you cannot see or hear him approaching.

You prop yourself up and with great effort, climb to your feet. You call out for Dean again but get no reply. A branch snaps from behind you and you clutch Dean’s knife a little tighter. If that were Dean, he would have answered you.

The blurry wisp of a large figure darts through the surrounding trees. It is too fast for you to make out what it is but you know the telltale signs of a supernatural creature when you see one. At the pace that thing was moving, you know you have no chance in hell to outrun it. You hear a familiar growl through the trees and you squeeze your eyes shut.

It didn’t even occur to you, any of you, that there may be second Wendigo on the prowl. You’ve heard of multiple Wendigoes in one area but have never experienced it yourself. Until now.

You look down at your measly knife and realize how unprepared you are. You look for your flare gun but groan when you realize it is in the backpack you gave Dean to carry. You fall to your knees and pain radiates throughout your entire body at the movement. You scramble to draw Anasazi symbols in the soil around you but you are interrupted.

Dean calls to you again and your head shoots up. “Dean! There’s another-” you try to warn him but you cannot get the words out as you are tackled onto your back. You soon realize your mistake. Dean was never there. And, he won’t be here in time.

You figure the thing will drag you off to the decrepit hole in which it dwells. Since you rescued its other victims, it will need to make a new stockpile for its hibernation. That will give Dean time to find you. Except, this Wendigo seems less interested in keeping you alive. If you didn’t know better, you would say it is angry. It is almost as if it knows you had a hand in the other’s death and is enacting revenge.

You hold the thing off of you at arm’s length for as long as you can. But, its elongated limbs make ‘arm’s length’ an arbitrary notion. Its claws slash into your chest and cut downward to tear into your stomach. The angry growl that escapes its throat tells you that this is not about food, this is about the kill. You take your knife and plunge it into the thing’s throat. Its blood pours over you, but it doesn’t slow the creature down.

The pain in your body weakens your muscles. You scream out as the thing leans down and with its jagged teeth bites into your shoulder. It rips the flesh from your bones and you stop screaming. But, you can still feel it, all of it. Your open wounds mean you are bleeding out. You head is dizzy but you remain conscious for now. The thing gets off of you and grabs you by the ankle before dragging you through the forest.

You can almost taste the trail of blood you are leaving behind. A part of you hopes Dean will follow it and find you. But, the other part of you hopes he won’t. You don’t want him to see you in that state. From the amount of blood you left behind, he will know you died. He doesn’t need the visual. He doesn’t need the reminder that you broke your promise.

 


End file.
